


new york's finest and funniest

by tacohashi



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Ava being Ava, F/F, Spider-Man - Freeform, alternative universe, rated t for descriptions of violence and cursing, tenderly cleaning up wounds, there's a fight scene n mentions of blood n injuries, u read that right folks its a spiderman au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28535091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacohashi/pseuds/tacohashi
Summary: Ava doesn't know how she ended up sitting on the kitchen counter of Beatrice-from-her-first-semester-history-class with a split lip, a broken and bleeding nose, some bruised ribs and maybe a concussion.or,  Ava is Spider-Man. It's as chaotic as it sounds.
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 44
Kudos: 320





	new york's finest and funniest

**Author's Note:**

> this is the most self indulgent thing i've ever written, and i hope you all enjoy it just as much as i enjoyed writing it.
> 
> thanks to milan for being a hilarious and amazing beta reader, love you!

Ava doesn't know how she ended up sitting on the kitchen counter of Beatrice-from-her-first-semester-history-class with a split lip, a broken and bleeding nose, some bruised ribs and _ maybe _ a concussion (The jury was still out on that one).

Okay, that’s a lie. She  _ does _ know how she ended up in Beatrice's kitchen counter. It was a bit foggy in her brain, sure. But she has the basics of what happened down, there’s enough memories of the event rattling inside her brain for it not to be concerning.

So, it goes like this: 

It was another normal night of patrolling the city, swinging from building to building, doing some flips for the wandering eyes of New Yorkers who were tired and getting out of work. She was in the middle of doing a backflip for some drunk college students who _very nicely_ _and drunkenly_ asked her to when she heard screaming from a few streets away.

Fuck, she was having an easy free of trouble night and now  _ this _ ? Couldn't criminals take a night off too? (Damn her  _ spidey senses _ and enhanced hearing.) 

She’s swinging down W 42nd St. and passing by New York’s public library, when Ava hears screaming again relatively close to her favorite bakery—she had saved the owner’s son from an almost fatal train accident a few years back, and as a forever thank you note they gifted her one or two pastries anytime she was around—Ava swings by, a part of her wishes it was daytime so she could grab a few pastries as reward after dealing with whatever the screaming was about, and heads to the inside of Bryant Park where the noises where coming from. 

“Please, just take my stuff! I don’t know what you want from me!” More yelling came from the zone surrounding the fountain, a dark and very empty part of the park this late at night. Perfect for a crime to go unnoticed. Ava makes a final swing and lands on the edge of the bowl looking fountain top. 

There’s three men, one of them with a pocket knife, the other two look unarmed. They all look towards where she is when she lands with a heavy  _ thud _ , confusion written on their faces. It's very obvious they were not expecting New York’s finest and funniest superhero to ruin their plans of the night. And,  _ rude _ . Ava loves ruining criminals plans, it’s pretty much her job.

“Fellas, I believe this is an unfair fight. how about you leave this poor woman alone, and we solve this issue between us?” Ava's crouched with her hands holding onto the edge of the fountain, and her head tilted to the side **.** (Shannon had helped make some new repairs to her suit, so she knows she looks both fantastic and threatening. An amazing combination, if you ask Ava). 

One of them—nearly bald, most likely drunk and Ava can practically smell all the cigarettes he has smoked in his life from where she is, which is  _ gross _ — grunts at her, something along the lines of: ‘ _ Stay out of it, spider menace. No one asked for your help.’ _

Well, Ava considers herself an expert on  _ not _ staying out of it. So she does exactly that.

Ava jumps from her place on the fountain with adrenaline starting to pump through her veins, shoots a web to a space on the floor behind cigarette-smelling-man, and using the same force of the web pulling her down towards the ground to gain momentum and strength punches the man square in the nose followed by a roll shoulder-first to land without injuring herself. She seriously hopes his nose is  _ at least  _ broken, that was one hell of a punch.

‘ _ Get wrecked. _ ’ Ava wants to say, but she’s a very serious superhero, so she only thinks it.

Cigarette-man falls to the ground clutching his nose and his two sidekicks— knife-man and the dude trying to fight a woman half his size for a tiny looking purse— look at his fallen friend and back at her with fury in their eyes.

Knife-man starts to walk her way, with the other man dropping the bag and following the steps of his friend—friend? Coworker? Crime partner? ...Boyfriend? Ava is not sure, and personally does not want to find out—towards where she’s getting up from the floor. 

( _ “Thank you Spider-Man!” _ She can hear the lady of the stolen purse in the background as she runs away from the scene. Smart woman. Ava would run away if she could too, but it’s too late for her to do that now.)

She raises her fists to protect herself—the same way Lilith had taught her a few years ago—, takes a deep, steadying breath, and walks towards where the two criminals were already approaching her.

There are times in which the whole fighting shenanigan is almost mechanical (punch, kick, shoot web, run away before the cops show up because they hate her, repeat), she can overthrow and unarm someone twice her size in just a few moves; Ava's been doing this for two years now, she believes she’s close to being a pro (Not as good as Shannon was when she was Spider-Man, though. Still had a lot to learn.). But right now it was not one of those times. 

Between dodging the pocket knife one of the men had, and the surprisingly strong punches the other one threw her way, Ava was getting her ass  _ kicked. _ (Maybe not entirely kicked, but she already took more hits that she would have liked or normally did, and can already feel the bruises that are painfully blossoming in her body.)

She dodges a punch, falls flat on her ass and receives a kick in the ribs that makes her head slam into the edge of the fountain,  _ ouchie _ . That's not good. Ava sees spots in her eyes for a few seconds, followed by extreme dizziness. That’s  _ definitely  _ not good.

The spots in her vision thankfully disappear after several moments of aggressive blinking, but she doesn’t have the same luck with the dizziness. Oh well, it’s something for future-Ava to worry about, right now there are more important things to focus on. 

One of the men, the bastard with the pocket knife, takes another swing at her with the knife which Ava barely dodges while getting up. And shit, the spots are back and the dizziness has not faded  _ at all _ . Maybe it is a problem for present-time-Ava, but the two robbers won’t let her try and solve it. 

At a distance, Ava can hear police sirens approach. They were probably rounding up the corner towards 6th Avenue, and that meant running away from the scene as fast as she possibly could. She’s not sure who called them (probably the woman who was getting robbed, duh), she was handling this perfectly fine without the need of cops. 

(She was totally not handling it.)

The two men get the same idea of running away from the cops as she does. Part of her wants to let them go so she can get home and take a very needed, and deserved, nap. But the other, more rational part of her tells her to  _ at least _ web them to the fountain for the police to arrest. 

It’s exactly what she does. She didn’t spend months on end getting drilled into her head that her responsibilities as Spider-Man always came first by Shannon for nothing. 

With her left hand she shoots a web to knife-welding-bastard’s head, she then does the same to his… coworker with her right hand and proceeds to bring their heads together with a  _ crack _ that would be concerning if only they hadn’t tried to injure her five minutes earlier. 

After they’re both crumpled in the ground in pain, she webs both of them, and their knocked out friend from earlier, to the side of the fountain and flees the scene.

And then, it goes like this: 

Swinging back towards the general direction of her apartment after running away from the cops and the crime scene, Ava crashes against a window and then falls into the balcony of said window. Someone’s balcony. Someone whose light is on and is already on their way to the door so they can open it. Shit, fuck,  _ now what?  _ (It’s a total miracle she didn’t break the window though, it has happened to her apartment’s windows… more times that she’d like to admit.) 

Her head hits against the floor with a very concerning  _ bonk _ sound and Ava feels as if her brain is bouncing around inside her head— it probably actually is bouncing around in her head at this point, if she’s being honest. That hit against the fountain she took was very,  _ very _ painful— more than she was feeling it a few seconds ago.

One of the many adjustments Shannon had made to her suit recently was that the eyes would squint open and closed according to her own eye movements. In normal situations, it’s useful and kind of cool to look at. But right now, Ava believes she looks like an absolute fool with said mechanical eyes twitching and glitching open and closed by her trying to make the stars in her vision disappear.

The window—a sliding door, actually. Neat— that she crashed against slides open, and a woman who looked around her age, if she had to guess, walks out with a wood baseball bat held tightly and raised like a sword. 

“...Spider-Man?” Said woman whispers, if it weren’t for her enhanced hearing Ava wouldn’t have heard it at all (she still barely heard it, tough. her mind is fuzzy and she was feeling  _ very _ dazed).

She lowers her bat a fraction, still held with a tight grip in her hands, and clears her throat. “Is everything alright?” 

Oh, wait a second. Ava recognizes that voice! It's Beatrice, she was in her history class during her first semester of college! She vaguely remembers her, had a lovely British accent and always aced all the spoken presentations their teacher made them do. (Ava could’ve possibly had a small crush on her the whole semester,  _ possibly _ .)

After a moment, Ava remembers she  _ actually _ has to answer. “Yup, yeah, yes. All good over here, nothing to worry about!” She says while trying to get up and getting smacked in the face with a wave of nausea that makes her drop to the floor again with another worrying  _ bonk _ .

“I take that back, nothing is good over here.” She slurs out. Had her vision been this blurry the whole time? She just remembered, vaguely, the spots and stars, not the blurriness.

Her knight in shining pajamas shuffles around a little awkwardly, lowers the bat, clears her throat for the second time in less than ten minutes and says, “My name is Beatrice. Is there anything you need help with? ...I could go get my first aid kit.”

Ava is pretty sure that at this point a trip to the hospital would be better than a first aid kit, “Yeah, it’d be fantastic if you could get it for me. I don’t think I can get up right now.” 

“It’s freezing outside, you’ll get sick if you stay out there on the balcony, come inside and I’ll help you.”

Out of all the ways she has been invited into other people’s houses while on duty, this was probably the weirdest—and most painful— one.

“Do-do you mind helping me get up? I think my ribs might be a little bruised. Well, most of my body is probably  _ very _ bruised but that’s a normal thing nowadays. Part of the business and all that.” 

Beatrice laughs. A small, breathy thing that could easily be mistaken with a sigh. She drops the bat beside the sliding door and fully walks out to the balcony so she can help Ava get up.

Getting up from her comfortable place on the floor is probably more painful than all the hits she took earlier. Her whole body  _ hurts _ , there’s blood pouring down her nose and she thinks from a cut on her temple too. Plus all the bruises that she can already feel, and the ones she had from days before. 

Somehow, with an amazing team effort, they manage to move from the balcony to inside Beatrice’s apartment and move inside to the kitchen where, weirdly, Beatrice keeps her first aid kit. 

Ava hops awkwardly and in pain to sit up in the kitchen counter beside the sink, she watches Beatrice move around her kitchen for a few seconds while the other girl gathers gauze, the first aid kit and anything else that might be needed to clean up Ava.

Beatrice has her back towards Ava, she takes a deep breath before turning around to look at her. Ava knows she’s not a sight for sore eyes, her suit is dirty, scratched in a few places and bloody in others, so she understands Beatrice’s hesitance. 

“Okay, well, here goes nothing.” Beatrice says with a sigh. She purses her lip and looks at Ava up and down to identify where the worst injuries were. 

Ava feels like she’s scrutinized under a microscope— which she kind of is, if she really thinks about it—, and it makes her feel awkward. So she does the thing she knows how to do the best, make it even  _ more  _ awkward. 

“You should’ve seen the other guys,” She swings her legs a little, but regrets it and stops a moment after because  _ ouch _ everything hurts. “They’re… essentially fine.” 

The other girl nods, completely ignoring her attempt at a rather awkward conversation, “Is your face bleeding?” 

There’s a brief pause.

“...A little?” Ava grimaces, it wasn’t anywhere near being a little. (And it was going to be a bitch to clean out of her suit. Fuck.)

“How much is ‘ _ a little’ _ ? I might need to lift your ma—” 

“Woah, woah. Sorry but that’s a  _ no-no _ . Mask stays on at all times.” Ava would’ve hopped down the counter and fled the apartment if it weren’t for the fact that she was bleeding  _ a lot _ and required all the help she could get without needing to take a trip to the hospital.

Beatrice nods again, but now with the added plus of a frown. “What part of your head is bleeding? You could lift the least possible amount of mask just so I can patch you up.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I think it’s just my nose bleeding, it might be broken,” It was not only her nose bleeding, and it was definitely broken. “I’ll lift up the mask just enough, okay? It might not be the prettiest sight, don’t be scared.” 

_ Here goes nothing _ , she thinks as she grabs the bottom edge of the mask and lifts it to uncover her nose. There’s a small  _ click _ sound somewhere in the side of her face, Ava doesn’t really pay attention to that—even if she probably should’ve.

Feeling completely vulnerable, with her mask halfway up and her nose pulsing and bleeding, Ava tries to grin a little at Beatrice. She fails miserably, and her mouth tastes a little like copper, and she can’t really breathe through her nose. “Well, doc, how’s it looking?”

Beatrice doesn’t talk for one, two moments. (Does her nose look that bad?)

“You’re… not a man?” Is what she ends up saying. Beatrice has a bloody, bruised, concussed superhero in her kitchen, and the thing she’s worried the most about is that she’s not a  _ man _ . 

“Why do you sound so disappointed?” The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and now her whole body hurts three times more than it did a few minutes ago. Who would’ve thought breathing could’ve been painful in two places: her nose and her ribs. 

“I-I.. I’m not disappointed. More surprised than anything, you  _ are _ Spider- _ Man _ .” 

Oh. Right. There were times when Ava forgot her name was Spider- _ Man _ when she is not, in fact, a man. (Or a spider, but people ignored that part more easily.)

“It's to protect my identity, mostly.” She says, “If all of New York City assumes I’m a dude, it’s easier to blend in without the suit.”

Beatrice hums at her in acknowledgement, “Your nose is still bleeding. Sit upright and lean forwards, that’ll help blood from going into your throat.” Ava does exactly that. 

“How would you easily blend in if, by the looks of it, you’re always injured at some degree?” She continues. Ava could’ve sworn she didn’t pay attention to her messy, mumbled ramble. “I’m gonna spray a decongestant in your nose to help stop the blood, and after I do that you need to pinch your nose, okay?” 

Ava has had many nurses—including Lilith, Mary and Shannon in most occasions— that have fixed her up, but none of them have spoken this tenderly and sweetly to her. None have explained every single thing they’re doing and why. It freaks Ava out a little, if she’s honest. (It also makes that stupid small crush she had on the other girl years ago come back for a single moment.)

She nods as much as she can without injuring herself more, and because she doesn’t know how to act around pretty girls, continues her messy, half-mumbled rambles. “And I also have a super neat voice adjuster, makes my voice deeper. It must’ve gotten broken during the fight, or when I lifted my mask.”

There’s something about the way Beatrice looks at her, a mix between concern and hilarity, that makes Ava’s heart jump in her chest. It’s not the adrenaline, or the decongestant being stuck in her nose that causes Ava’s heart to race and her hands to sweat. It’s something else, in the way Beatrice looks at her even if she’s a total stranger invading and dirtying her kitchen. She looks at Ava like she matters even without the mask, even without knowing who she is without it. 

(It makes Ava want to cry a little.)

“Okay, Spider-Man, now pinch your nose until it stops bleeding.” She grabs a clean towel from beside the sink, dropping the decongestant besides the rest of the first aid kit. “I’ll try to clean the mess below your nose as much as I can, is that okay? Or would you rather do it yourself?”

Her eyes well up with tears by the softness and care in Beatrice’s voice. She nods. 

A laugh escapes Beatrice's mouth, “Is that a yes to me doing it or…”

“Oh! Yes, you can do it. It’s - It’s fine.” Ava blurts out. She’s never this much of a mess around people, what’s wrong with her right now?

The towel Beatrice had picked up gets dampened with warm water and then brought to Ava’s lower face. She knows, logically, that Beatrice is staring at her lips to clean the blood— and dirt that she has no idea how it got there— that is there. But part of her wishes for it to be for a different reason. 

She opens her lips slightly to help Beatrice clean the blood off, of course. Beatrice’s breath stutters and her eyes widen a fraction, moving from her lips up to her eyes (the mechanical ones from the suit) and back to her lips. She continues meticulous cleaning while Ava’s heart keeps rattling inside of her ribs like a lovesick fool.

Minutes pass in a thick, tense, silence while Beatrice works and Ava gets closer to suffering from a heart attack. (The cause, you may ask? Well, Beatrice, of course.)

Then, Beatrice takes a step back from her and clears her throat. “You said  _ only  _ your nose was bleeding.” 

Ava nods at her, not entirely sure what she’s talking about. “Only my nose is bleeding.” 

“You have blood trailing down the side of your face and I’m starting to believe you might have a concussion too.”

“Oh, really? That doesn’t sound right. I don’t think there’s any other part of my face bleeding.” Ava lies. She could feel the sticky fluid on her temple and even trailing down her neck.

Beatrice sighs exasperatedly, “I can't help you more if you don't let me raise the mask more.” 

“I’m sorry, I can’t lift my mask more than this. Already risked a lot by raising it this much.” 

There’s a life-saving buzz somewhere in her suit that interrupts their conversation. Her phone. Ava was amazed it survived the fight and crash, if she’s honest. 

She moves around a little to fish it out of one of the inner pockets of the suit. When she semi-successfully manages to take it out of her pocket, she notes the screen is broken in a few places. Fuck, not again.

**[2:43 AM] Lilith (DON'T MESS WITH HER):** I’m parked outside the last location your suit gave. If you’re not here in two minutes I’m leaving without you. 

“Well, would you look at that. I think my ride is here,” Ava lowers her mask again, hops off the counter clumsily, almost tripping on air and breaking her nose—  _ again _ — in the process, “Thanks for the first aid and for not fussing about the window crash. Holler if you ever need me.”

It looks like Beatrice is about to argue for her to stay, and a small, mushy part of Ava thinks she would’ve said yes if asked, but before that can happen, the sensible, mushy part chooses to rush out of the kitchen as fast and straight as she can.

Beatrice follows a step or two behind Ava as they make their way outside to the balcony, making sure nothing got broken in her apartment, or  _ more _ broken in Ava’s case. “How would you find me if I ‘hollered’ for help?”

They’re already back outside, and it  _ is  _ very cold. Beatrice was right. And Ava is very glad she decided to let Beatrice help her and move her inside her apartment. (For reasons that aren’t only the cold.)

Ava turns around for a moment to look at Beatrice, with her pajama shirt bloodied and her beautifully kind eyes, Ava smiles. “I have my ways.” And jumps off the balcony to where Lilith’s car is parked.

  
“I’m sure you do,  _ Ava. _ ” Beatrice whispers to the empty, cold space where the superhero was mere seconds ago. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked it don't forget to drop some kudos and comments! i love that sweet, sweet validation.
> 
> you can also find me on tumblr @rudeamity!


End file.
